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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30106230">Don't make him the villain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shut_up_sarah/pseuds/shut_up_sarah'>shut_up_sarah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadow and Bone (TV), The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A bit unholy, Chains, Curses, Darklina - Freeform, F/M, Horseback Riding, Knife Kink, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monsters, Self Insert, Sex in tents, Shadow Monster, Threesome - F/M/M, bath scene, darkling x reader, leigh wouldn’t have wanted this Im sorry, lowkey a sex slave but we don’t talk about that, nikolai likes the darkling, prisonner, shadowandbone - Freeform, slander on alina but it’s not on purpose, the darkling likes nikolai too, y/n</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:47:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30106230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shut_up_sarah/pseuds/shut_up_sarah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is forced to stay with the Darkling, serving as a distraction from his fights with Alina.<br/>------<br/>You stared at your hands in the hexagonal room, waiting. The tips of your fingers were black. More and more black every day. It seemed to have reached into your blood, seeing the dark veins in your hands and going up your arms like dark lightning. You’d been cursed by him. It had been an accident.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Nikolai Lantsov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Stay and obey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You stared at your hands in the hexagonal room, waiting. The tips of your fingers were black. More and more black every day. It seemed to have reached into your blood, seeing the dark veins in your hands and going up your arms like dark lightning. You’d been cursed by him. It had been an accident.<br/>
_</p><p>A few weeks ago, your path had crossed the starless saint’s. Instinctively you had reached out your hand to touch him on his dark horse, murmuring the prayers of gratitude they thought in school. He wasn’t as scary as the stories that ran around town recounted. People said he was old, horrendous, mean, the epitome of grace. That last part was true at least, but he was breathtaking, painfully perfect and so inexplicably dark.<br/>
Trailing between his men, the Darkling passed through the crowd of ravkan citizens staring from their windows at the grishas before fixing the ground when they met his serious gaze without slowing down. The heretics were there, as they always were, following their saint with a respectful distance, still raising their hands above their heads as to reach the sun, casting long shadows on the ground.</p><p>Going the opposite direction, you were forced to face the army, the one-way path in the village making it difficult to go around. You kept your head down in respect, not desiring to bring any unnecessary attention to yourself by unwanted men. Until you saw him up close and held his gaze. He didn’t look real. You’ve heard the rumors about the map maker who could summon light, you knew she had escaped him from the gossip going in town, he didn’t look pleased by her actions.<br/>
You raised your hand to him, soldiers circling around you as you stopped in the path. He reached his hand down and met yours. The tip of his fingers grazing the underside of yours all the way to your palm. You felt the hum of magic like a vibration, vision shaking, losing balance. You blinked. Your hand was black, you couldn’t feel it anymore, hearing the pulse of your heart ringing in your ears. You reached your hand back in fear, stumbling backward, clutching it to your chest in pain as the muscle in your fingers cramped and your vision darkened. A small whine escaped your mouth.<br/>
He stopped his black horse, staring at you from above. A voice boomed in your head, you couldn’t see who it was coming from, looking around you and swing no mouth moving, you could only rely on the cold whispers behind your neck and the deep tone speaking to you from your mind.<br/>
What are you? </p><p>You didn’t answer, not knowing what to answer. What you were? A traveler, a human, a poisoner, someone who just killed an entire crew of pirates. The voice didn’t need to know that. You chose to ignore the voice, maybe mixing all those chemicals was making you hallucinate things.<br/>
You took a moment to look at your hand again, the darkness of it had retreated to the furthest point of your fingertips, nearly visible. You stared up, realizing the Darkling was still looking down at you, a puzzled look on his face. </p><p>“I’m sorry?”, you tried, sounding untruthful, taking a step back. Maybe if you could just walk away now, he would forget you existed and you could go find the next job waiting for you. Maybe if he could stop staring, you could stop imagining reaching out again. His pretty face wasn’t going to get the bills paid. Some of the soldiers around you had slowed the progression.<br/>
“You’re coming with me”. No, you were not, you had just walked all the way here, almost halfway from the capital, going back was a risk.<br/>
“No thank you”, you answered in the most authoritative voice you had, which was a bit shaky at the moment.<br/>
“I’m not having you go around with your hand like this”.<br/>
“I can’t”. You could.<br/>
“Not a question”, he replied You felt the men circling your side putting their hands on the hilt of their swords. </p><p>“She rides with me”, the darkling said, reaching his hand – now gloved – back to you. You hesitated, weighing your options, trying to figure out his intentions. Was trying to escape from the most powerful man in Ravka worth losing a hand? Choices were limited, and the soldiers were very persuasive, waiting to draw their swords. Someone took the backpack from your shoulders, how insisting.</p><p>You took his hand as he pulled you roughly in front of him on the saddle. His chest against your back, arms around your waist holding the reigns that were between your legs. You didn’t dare move, each time you readjusted you just finished more pressed against him. He picks up speed and so did the men around him. Someone was eager to get home. You tried not to think of the rocking of the horse, sending his hips crashing into yours, his breath down your neck, his mouth near your ears. Neither of you spoke throughout the rest of the ride, except for him giving out orders to other men on horses and people dressed in blue. </p><p>When the sun began to set down, the army set up camp. He stopped the horse and got down motioning for you to get down too, holding your waist and pulling you down himself before you had the chance to move. He took both of your wrists in one hand holding them closed and gestured to a grisha dressed in purple. She bound your hands in chains.</p><p>“Is this really necessary?”, asking couldn’t hurt. He flickered a look of annoyance back at you. Asking could hurt then. He took hold of your wrist and dragged you forward. You could see his tent being made, easily recognizable by its huge dark drapes and sheer size, way bigger than any others. He continued dragging you past it into the woods nearby, stopping when he found you far enough. They wouldn’t hear you if you screamed. They wouldn’t care. You blinked at him confused.</p><p>“Why aren’t you scared of me?”, the Darkling asked, stepping closer towards you.<br/>
“Are you going to kill me?”, you felt as though he was right, you should be scared. The fingers of your left hand began to tingle again, the one he had touched.<br/>
“Not if this kills you first”, he pointed at your hand.<br/>
Actually, not tingling but itching, turning into throbbing, becoming burning. Slowly at first, moving from your hands to your arm. You winced, facing your arm away from him. The earth started shaking. No not shaking, you were the one trembling, the burning sensation overpowering your senses as you fell to your knees on the grass. He hadn’t moved, watching the scene as some sort of experiment. You bite your tongue trying to repress a scream, squeezing the painful arm to you, as if it would help.<br/>
“Make it stop”, you pleaded, tears starting to rim the corner of your eyes blurring your vision.<br/>
“I’m not doing anything”, his voice calm and soft. Lies, you thought. Your mind was white with pain.<br/>
“Please”</p><p>He crouched beside you, taking a glove off, and tentatively grazed the side of your cheek, you felt the sparks of magic as he did so. The pain eased the more he touched you, the palm of his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb running under the corner of your eye, catching tears as they fell. You tried to stop shaking, breathing in as slowly as you could, closing your eyes as you leaned into his touch. You dropped your shackled hands to your knees, the pain gone. </p><p>Saints, he whispered under his breath in shock. Apparently understanding as little as you did from the interaction. He drew back his hand and stood up, you leaned forward in reaction wanting the feel on him back on your face, fearing the lack of contact would bring the pain back again, it didn’t. </p><p>“How did you do it”, the Darkling asks glowering down at you as you try to stand back up, wanting to get as close to eye level as you could. Even then you didn’t reach higher than his shoulders. You didn’t get what he was reaching for, do what exactly? Was he talking about now or before, did he know about the pirates? Has someone looked through your bag?<br/>
“I didn’t do anything, you touched me”<br/>
“You took a part of my powers” He chuckled, “Your body is rejecting it”, saying it as if it was common knowledge.<br/>
“I don’t want it, take it back”, you weren’t a thief.<br/>
He shook his head, that’s not how magic worked apparently. </p><p>A moment passed in silence, staring each other in the eyes in defiance.<br/>
“You’re staying with me then”, he took your chained wrist and began dragging you back to camp.<br/>
“I don’t want to stay with you, I have to go”, what an excuse.<br/>
“I know about your pirate affair; I’ve been intercepting the messages. Unless you desire to die in a cell, you’re staying.” The words caught in your throat. He knew.<br/>
You tried pulling your hands out of his grasp, pulling in the other direction and dragging your feet, it only seemed to make him squeeze your writs tighter. </p><p>“Hey! I said I’m not going with you”, the loudness in your tone made him ceased walking, you nearly bumped into him as he turned back to face you.<br/>
“This arrangement is benefiting you more than it is me. You need me for the pain. I need you to figure out how you transferred powers. Now stop being a nuisance.<br/>
He pulled you the way back to his tent. You didn’t resist. If you could access your things, you could make up a poison strong enough to neutralize him, maybe make him a bit sleepy. You’d need your tools for that, and you doubted waving around a bag full of chemicals wasn’t going to attract attention. Plus, you needed to figure out a way to get rid of whatever he had put in you.  </p><p>He pushed you into the arms of a beautiful lady with red hair and a scarred face. No orders were exchanged, just a nod from her before she took you to what you assumed was a makeshift bathing house. She and two other women helped wash you without speaking, washed your clothes and dried them with a soft wind. You were brought back, with wet hair, to his tent. You tried asking for your belongings, no one replied. </p><p>Chained to the mast holding the tent up, you looked around the room for something that could be used as a weapon. The tent was spacious enough for a pile of cushions and blankets, a desk, and a table with a map sprawled on it marked in different areas. Candles were placed at each corner as well as hanging from the ceiling to light up the dark tent threaded with gold. </p><p>They had taken your boots and your coat, leaving your travel pants and a simple white blouse. At least you were clean.<br/>
The darkling came back after what seemed like an hour, looking exasperated from whatever duty he had just finished. He chucked off his kefta onto the chair near the desk, it looked heavy. </p><p>“What’s your name”, he asks.<br/>
“Whatever you want it to be”. His back faced you as he arranged documents on the desk and rolled away maps. He knew enough about your past actions to give him a name he could wield over you if he ever decided that your company wasn’t needed anymore.<br/>
“Keeping secrets from me isn’t going to work dear”<br/>
“What’s your name then?”, he turned back to you evaluating if he could tell you, a stranger, what he never told anyone. When he didn’t answer you added “Dear works fine for me”.</p><p>Time passed as the night settled in, your mind was elsewhere as people came to give reports, barely acknowledging a tied-up girl in the middle of the room. He seemed to have finished working for the day, the sounds outside diminished and the heat retreated. </p><p>“Aren’t you cold”. He was in the made-up travel bed, book in hand, scribbling with a quill in the margins of the text.<br/>
“I’m fine”, you lied, shivering slightly. How nice of your captor to think of your well-being. He sighed dramatically, passing a hand throw his hair.<br/>
“Come here”, pulling aside the blankets to make room for you.<br/>
“I’m chained”, if only you could get the chains off you had a bigger chance to escape.<br/>
“Your chains are long enough to reach the bed, come”, of course they were. This was very well thought out. </p><p>You stayed unmoving holding his gaze. </p><p>“The next time you’re in pain, I shall let you suffer alone until you crawl to me begging for help. I like the sounds you make when you’re whining”. Threats.<br/>
“Will you take the chains off?”, you tried to sound unthreatening and innocent.<br/>
“You would prefer a collar then”, and he’s sarcastic now, how very lucky you were. </p><p>You took a moment to think about the threat he had made, certain you didn’t want to feel the pain again, not alone, and your hair was still damp. You were giving yourself excuses now, you wanted to join him, he could probably tell. </p><p>He reached to a closed chest by the side of him, pulling out a bottle of scotch, shaking it in your direction. You stood up tentatively and walked the few steps that separated you from the bed, sitting down next to him. The chains did, in fact, reach the bed.<br/>
“Long day?” you asked trying to pull in a joke to lighten the mood.<br/>
“Long life”, he offered the opened bottle, no glass, you took a big sip and passed it back to him, the hot liquid easing the stress. You swung your legs onto the bed, resting your back against the pillows creating the headboard, awkwardly sitting next to him. What a funny picture you could’ve drawn, like a fucking married couple, you and this murderer. </p><p>Peaking at the texts he was reading; you could guess it must’ve been someone’s diary from long ago. He had filled the margins with his own notes in a language you couldn’t read. When he saw that you were looking at, he closed the book with a snap and dropped it in the chest on the opposite side of you before taking another sip of the scotch. </p><p>You didn’t know if you were supposed to talk, distract him perhaps, he seemed to crave simple company. You thought of your bag, filled with poison, that the guard had taken before coming here, filled with intricate ingredients it had taken you years to accumulate. Then your hands came back to mind, the way it had hurt, the pure blackness of your hand. You wiggled your fingers, testing the feeling. Although he had said that you took some of his powers, you didn’t feel any different from the usual. </p><p>The tingle in your fingers wasn’t from the pain this time, the bottle passing between both of you had nearly emptied by half, your head felt fuzzy wondering how much alcohol it took for a grisha to get drunk. You wanted to touch his hand, to feel the cooling sensation, the hum of power. His deep voice ripped you away from your thoughts.</p><p>“Tell me about you”. Orders, always, never demands.<br/>
So, you did. You talked about your days traveling, never mentioning anything related to you learning to master the art of poisoning, or the people you had killed. Although his body count must be higher than yours by a stretch. In both the meanings. He listened carefully, drinking as you recalled your tales, not mentioning the lies you weaved throughout your story to blur the lines. His features seemed to have calmed, he didn’t look as serious. </p><p>“How does the power work?”, you enquired as the itching in your fingers began again.<br/>
“I’m not sure, I just know that it wants to come back to me”, he took your hand in his. Immediately the itching stopped and the black veins retreated. “Sleep now, we have a long day ahead”. He pulled the blankets over you, pulling your body close to his. You wondered if it was as an act of kindness to keep the pain away, or something else entirely, but you didn’t dare move away. Bundled up against him, you tried to protest but he shushed you whispering, his mouth near your ear, putting his leg between yours and caging you in his arms.  </p><p>He kept his arms around your waist as his breathing slowed, eyes closed. You tried calming the loud beating of your heart, waiting until you were sure he was deeply asleep, and then waited some more for precaution. You found it amazing how he could rest so peacefully with a stranger in his arms.<br/>
When certain he was sleeping, you tried to pry his hands off your body carefully, slipping out of his grasp testing to see if the itching would return. When it didn’t, you crouched near the bed and sneaked across the tent as far as your chains would let you to what you believed was a crate carrying weapons. You fumbled with the metallic clasps, opening it a little to slip your hand inside, feeling around for a dagger, closing your hand around the hilt before pulling it out. </p><p>“I offer you my help and you still disobey me, how ungrateful”. You jump from the voice coming from behind you, letting the crate’s lid slamming down. Disappointment flashed across his face, quickly replaced by anger as he takes in the dagger in your hand. Already standing, he strides across the room, shadows swarming in your vision rendering the room pitch black. You try swinging the knife but cut only air.<br/>
The shadows retreat, you don’t have time to react as his palm strikes your face, sending the knife skittering on the carpeted ground. You drop to your knees from the impact, raising your arms above your head, protecting it from the next blow you anticipate but it never comes. </p><p>He tugs hard against your chains, pulling you forward, forcing you to come to him as he drags you back. Picking up the dagger you dropped, looking harmless in his hands.<br/>
“Is this what you like then?”, he points the knife back at you, still holding firmly on the chains keeping your hands linked. </p><p>The Darkling seizes your throat, his hand encircling your neck entirely, making you walk backward pushing you towards the bed, your eyes wide, choking slightly. You fall on your back onto the covers as he releases your throat. You have enough time to gasp for air before feeling his hands on the hem of your shirt. You instinctively yank your arms back down trying to turn away from him, but he takes hold of the cuffs, straddling your legs keeping them immobilized and stabilizes your arms above your head with his powers. </p><p>He pressed the knife down your collarbones and through the ties of your shirt, cutting them open one by one while pressing his free hand to your mouth keeping you silent. You feel the cold of the night through your now opened shirt, while he tore the rest of it to shreds. </p><p>You try to meet his eyes pleading for mercy, noticing him gazing down at your body, some strands of hair falling in his face. He drags the knife down your skin, not hard enough to cut, but hard enough to leave red streaks on your chest. He goes from the top of your ribcage, to your breast, making you wince as you feel the cold blade grazes your nipple, and drags down your stomach, stopping near the rim of your pants, debating. </p><p>The Darkling sat back taking his hand off your mouth, observing your body trapped between his knees, the shadows released their pressure on your hands. You kept them above your head just in case. </p><p>He saw the light trembling of your body provoked by the air of the room, feeling colder without a tied shirt. You waited for what would come next, not in fear, but in excitement.<br/>
He retreated slowly away from you, sighing as he brought a hand to his jaw through his beard, noticing the expression and redness of your face. He chuckled, throwing the knife on the desk making it clank on the wood. </p><p>“Behave yourself, and we won’t have any issues, understood?”. He says, as you sit up slowly, putting your bound hands in front of your chest to gain some semblance of modesty. “Answer me when I talk to you”.<br/>
“Yes… sir”, you reply, unsure if you should call him general.<br/>
“Good”, he circles the bed to his side before pulling you close to him once again facing him. His hands on your spine felt more invasive without a shirt on, you didn’t try to back away, thankful for the warmth he procured. His tight embrace preventing you from moving even an inch, rending it impossible to try anything again.<br/>
“Do not wake me again, or I’ll be cutting more than your clothes”, he adds, resting his chin on your head.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Hierophant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Don't fall for the monster - DeathbyRomy</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a little over a week since you had taken the decision to stay with the Darkling. He had brought you back to his little palace, giving you permission to roam the grounds freely as long as you reported back to his room when he arrived. Some days, he didn’t come back at all, the nights felt long and lonely without him in his big dark bed. </p><p>When he had time to spare, he would come back to you, experimenting with the powers you had stolen, trying to take them back, erase the mistake you had made the first day you saw him.<br/>
The tingling in your fingers provided no fear. You came to associate it with the Darkling rushing back to you to caress your skin, waiting for the moment it shows up, giving you excuses to seek him out.<br/>
When the pain became too much to bear, always peaking at random moments throughout the day, he made sure to be by your side and comfort you, taking you in his arms. Or send grishas carrying multiple elixirs to calm your nerves and slow the flow of blood torturing your veins when he was far from home.<br/>
In the days that had passed, you hadn’t thought about escaping, or even poisoning him in the slightest, seeing as he covered up your tracks from the killing streak you had gone on before. You could even say you started to enjoy his company, and crave his touch at night.</p><p>On one particular morning, you recalled, he had told you that he had never been able to sleep so soundlessly before than when he holds you, used to waking up every hour, memories ripping him away from a peaceful rest. He had stayed in bed with you that morning, keeping you close, exploring your body with his hands, making swirls of shadows dance between your fingers. Unlike everyone else, his powers never scarred you. </p><p>Deep down, you knew you were living on borrowed time. That he had been using you as a distraction from whatever war was raging near the Fold, and that sun summoner he seemed to always be thinking about. That his courtesy would run out once he got bored of your presence, if you offered too much of a fight, if you didn’t fight back enough. That whatever cursed thing he had put inside you would grow big enough to swallow you whole in complete darkness.</p><p>And yet. </p><p>You’ve never felt better. The respect you gained just by being his favorite, always treated like a princess. The fake freedom you gained, walking through the Little Palace and the gardens outside, carrying books from his personal library you were allowed to read. But even then, the thing making you stay wasn’t the certitude of the pain being kept away. It was him. His neediness, his desires, how he made you feel, the way your body responded. </p><p>The unspoken promise that he would make you feel amazing things if you complied with his demands. And saints did you comply.</p><p>🌑🌓🌕</p><p>That night, you had greeted him politely with a bow of the head when he came back from the capital, not risking kissing him in front of all the glowering grishas who would kill you in a heartbeat to take your place. You were wearing one of the dresses he had selected for you, black or white without fail, never any colors, all embellished with amazing craftsmanship and care, golden patterns woven throughout the bodice. He loved giving you intricate clothes only so he could take them off himself, enjoying the expensive fabric as he tore it off your body. </p><p>He walked you back to his room immediately, holding you possessively, a hand on the small of your back as you climbed up the stairs to his wing. A hexagonal room filled with dark wood and black drapes behind the council’s war room. A huge four-poster bed in the middle, next to a window giving in to the yards down below, big enough to see the night sky from the bed. </p><p>“I want to show you something”, he says walking to his personal workplace facing the window, dropping the letters he was holding in his hand onto it. He sat down in the only chair, leaving enough room for you between him and the desk. You understand his intentions and sit down on his lap, facing the table. He breaks the seal of the envelopes, you recognize the double eagle of the royals, and leaves you time to read the content of the letter whilst trailing his mouth on the back of your neck, pushing your hair to one side, exposing parts of your shoulders. </p><p>The letter was addressed to him, and strangely, to you too. Coming directly from the crown prince – and the many other titles – Nikolai Lantsov. In your eyes, the letter seems like a formality at first, inquiring about any advancements on The Fold, details about the lost saint, ending with an invitation for a formal dinner at the palace just for the three of you in a week. The invitation feels more like an order than a request. </p><p>You twist back to face him; he raises an eyebrow waiting for your reply.<br/>
“How does he know about me?”, you ask instead, unsure if you had the authority to deny anything the crown demands.<br/>
“The grisha love to gossip. Plus, you’re not exceptionally quiet yourself”<br/>
“Does that mean we have to go?”, you change the subject trying to refrain from blushing slightly.<br/>
“Nikolai won’t stop pestering me until I do what he likes, I just wanted you to be aware, he’s probably interested in your curse.”, he sighs tracing the pattern of the lace around your waist with his fingers. A curse, you wouldn’t call it that.<br/>
“Tell me more about Nikolai”</p><p>His eyes flicker up to yours with a bit of anger as his grip around your waist tightens. “Lantsov can wait, I do not wish to talk about him.” He picks up your hand to examine it, black all the way around your first phalange, as if you dipped your hand in the darkest of ashes.<br/>
“Did you miss me?”, he adds, bringing your palm to his mouth and kissing it.<br/>
“I’ve been good while you were gone”. You nod.<br/>
He drags his hand on your thigh, spreading them apart, pushing the silk fabric up, placing your hand atop of his. “I find that hard to believe. Show me what you do in the dark”</p><p>You guide his hand, so much bigger than yours, between your legs. He knows what you like, he’s done it so many times by now, but he waits for your guidance enjoying your embarrassment, making you fluster even more.<br/>
You lead his fingers past the hem of your underwear, moving it aside. You shiver at his coarse cold fingers caressing your skin, clutching at the fabric of his kefta, as if it could help you keep a grip on reality. </p><p>The edges of your mind blurred as two of his fingers slipped inside, pushed by your own. You angle his hand the right way while he fingers you, letting you decide on the speed that pleased you most.<br/>
For an instant, you worry about the curtainless window, the night settling in slowly allowing outsiders to see the insides of the lightly lit room from below, the gossiping grishas. Your worries fade when you feel the top of your dress loosen, sliding off your shoulders, sensing him undoing the buttons of the back onehanded. </p><p>The pressure between your legs increases suddenly, your gasping moans making him chuckle lightly as you take your hand off his, gripping his moving wrist instead.<br/>
He grabs your neck, forcing your back against his chest. The back of your head resting on his shoulder, still holding his wrist, trying – but not so trying – to pry him off. You arch your back against him, grinding on his dick, feeling him harden beneath you. </p><p>You whimper something, sounding like a mix of sounds going from stop to good.<br/>
“Use your words properly, dear, or you’re not getting anything”, the Darkling answers in a low whisper near your ear.<br/>
It takes a moment for your brain to connect before replying “Please give me more”</p><p>He stands up suddenly bringing you up with him and setting you on the desk for a short moment, enough for him to take off his kefta and shirt he throws away, undoing the top of his pants.<br/>
He takes the back of your dress, now in a puddle around your waist, and rips the rest of the buttons off until the dress is loose enough to tear it off your body completely, along with your underwear. </p><p>Sliding his hands under your thighs, he picks you off the table in a swift movement moving towards the wall. You wrap your arms around his neck when you feel the tapestried wall behind you, encircling his hips with your legs as well.</p><p>He traps your mouth with his own when his dick pushes inside you, quieting your moans. He continues fucking you against the wall, making you dig your nails into his shoulders, clawing at his back. You open your lips wider, allowing him to deepen the kiss before breaking it apart, turning his attention to your neck instead, sucking on it slightly making his way down. As if the obvious coloring of your hand wasn’t enough to mark you as his. </p><p>🌑🌓🌕</p><p>The general leaves tomorrow. You lay in bed together between tangles sheets facing the window. You gaze at the stars in the night sky as he traces the lines of your arm, going up your shoulders and down your back with his knuckles, passing over the hickeys he left on your neck and chest. You cherish these moments of silent mourning. Borrowed time. But wanting more makes you weak, and getting attached makes it harder to leave. </p><p>Tomorrow is another fight, there is always another fight. More bloodshed no one asked for. It’s for the greater good, he always says. You have trouble believing him, you don’t think he believes in it himself. There would have to be a good before there is a great. He knows neither of those.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes from the book: *exist*<br/>Me: it's free réal estate</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. let the shadows speak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Battle not with monsters<br/>lest you become the monster,<br/>and if you gaze into the abyss<br/>the abyss gazes into you<br/>-Nietzsche</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The commotion in the halls wasn’t loud enough to stir you away from the armchair you had fixed yourself to for the last few days, still wearing your white nightgown, mindlessly reading about ravkan royalty, your eyes scanning the words without registering any of it.</p><p>The sun summoner had reappeared from hiding. Causing quite a commotion from the apparat and his churches. From what you’ve been able to inquire from the servants working the Little Palace, cities near the borders have been destroyed, and children were torn away from school to be used as bait.<br/>
You couldn’t say that you agreed with his methods, he seemed to be so different on the battlefield than in his chambers. Even when he was with you, his mind was elsewhere, scheming, preparing, always ten steps in advance, thinking about the saint. His saint.<br/>
How well played of him, he had amassed a saint and a curse. You had the feeling that if he were meant to pick, he’d chose her, every time. It didn’t excuse the fact that he was currently using you to cure his loneliness. Although you weren’t completely innocent yourself in the matter. </p><p>Focusing on the noise outside the doors again, you tried to make out the words being shouted. A servant you had never seen barged in, absolutely not acknowledging your presence. She rushed to the bathing room, which contained a huge bath and too many mirrors. You heard her turn on the water, the smell of wood and chai hitting your nose accompanied with a light steam fogging up the mirrors, turning the room humid. </p><p>A grisha followed suit, waiting by the doorframe.<br/>
“You have been asked to stay in the guest room tonight. He doesn’t want to see you”<br/>
The words echoed in your mind. He doesn’t want to see me. It hurt more than you would like to admit. Have you done something to displease him? Was this a punishment?</p><p>You rose from the armchair, dropping the book on the cushion and followed the grisha out of the Darkling’s chambers and into the guest wing, nearly on the other side of the Little Palace. You hated being surrounded and looked upon by grishas, it felt like being paraded as a whore, living among them but never with them. </p><p>You settled into the guest bedroom, untouched and cold. Looking out the window, you could see the general coming back on his horse followed by some of the other high ranked army men. His kefta was covered in blood, splattered on his face and hands, he seemed furious. Dangerous.<br/>
He handed the reigns to a stableboy and headed inside. A short moment passed where you expected him to come to get you as he always did. That moment passed.<br/>
You feared he had started casting you away. </p><p>🌑🌓🌕</p><p>You watched the shadows dancing on the wall, reflecting by the single candle you had lit in the now dark room. Your black fingers twitched slightly, as if drawn to them, making you remember the time he experimented his powers on you, trying to pull out whatever had slipped inside without success. Secretly, you had wished that whatever he was trying to do wouldn’t work, that you could stay like that, just the two of you, with a bond to share. Even though the bond caused moments of pure agony.  </p><p>Enough time had passed, you had no clue of how much exactly but guessed around one of two hours, the back and forth of people in the hallways had calmed, the palace now silent. You slipped out of your room, he never asked to lock your doors anymore since you had gained his trust. Walking as quietly as you could, you made your way unnoticed back to his wing, going through the strategy war room, into his own.<br/>
He doesn’t lock his doors either, he knows no one would dare come inside uninvited. Except you. Only because you had learned not to fear him, killing you meant killing the only chance he got to be with someone who didn’t treat him like a monster. </p><p>Surprisingly, he was in the bath, his back to your, hair damp and skin glistening, still stained red in parts. He was leaning his elbow on the edge of the bathtub, his index and thumb resting on his eyebrows, reflecting, planning again. You took a moment to admire the view, you were always the first one naked, this was a change. </p><p>“I ordered that you stay away tonight”, his voice echoes on the mirrors, making it even more powerful. He sensed your presence without having to turn.<br/>
“I just wanted to help”<br/>
“Then help”.<br/>
You step forward taking one of the washcloths from the counter, kneeling near the bath. You take his arm, intending to help wash off the blood but he stops you, a hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back.<br/>
“What is this?” You drop the washcloth to grip his wrist away, pulling harder, making your eyes water. “Do you pity me dear”, he says with much disdain.<br/>
“I… I didn’t want you to be alone”, a half-truth. You didn’t want him to think that you resented him for his actions, and at the same time, you were worried he would shut you out completely. </p><p>He released his grip on your hair, you try not to flinch away from his as he grabs your arms pulling you inside the bath, sending water splashing everywhere, extinguishing some of the candles lining the floor. </p><p>On your hands and knees, you try not to slip in the soapy water, coughing slightly from the shock. The water was colder than you expected, freezing even. Your teeth start to chatter, the slim nightgown you wore now drenched and transparent, sticking to your skin.  </p><p>He didn’t smile, looking down at you kneeling between his legs, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, but the look in his eyes told you that something bad had happened. </p><p>“You don’t think me capable of being alone?”, his hold on your arm becomes painful.<br/>
“Why is the water so cold”<br/>
“Answer me! Who do you think you are? You think because I let you share my bed you know me well enough. Know your place!”, he pushes you back roughly releasing his hold, you stumble back catching the sides of the tub.<br/>
“Is it because of the girl?”, your voice is barely hearable. It’s the only explanation you could give to the situation. He can control his emotions so well, every day with everyone, except for the fucking saint. His façade falls when she’s concerned. </p><p>You don’t have the time to brace for impact as he backhands you across the face, your head snapping to the side. You get a moment to register the action before he hits you again. Your cheek stings, maybe your lip is bleeding, you aren’t sure. He hasn’t hit you since the first day you met, which served as a warning, now the blow is angry and double the force.<br/>
“I’ve been alone my whole life, don’t think that you’re going to change me by being nice”<br/>
“You’ve had a bad week I understand…”. You withdraw away from his reach, just in case, trying to keep your features gentle.<br/>
“Drop the act. Stop trying to fix me.”<br/>
“Coming was a mistake, I’ll leave”. You sigh, standing out of the bath. </p><p>Dripping water all over the carpeted floor, you make it to the bedroom door before hearing footsteps coming up from behind you. You have time to turn the knob before his hand slams the door close in front of your face, locking you inside, trapped between it and him.<br/>
You stay unmoving, facing the door, still holding the doorknob, not daring any movement. </p><p>“No,” he drags the letters out, hovering by your ear, “you don’t get to decide when you leave”.<br/>
He spins you away from the door, eyes settling on your body through the drenched nightgown for an instant. </p><p>“You came to help”, he adds almost sarcastically. “Get on your knees then”.<br/>
And when you don’t immediately do so, he throws you a look of defiance, sending chills down your back. “You’ve already disobeyed me once today; you won’t appreciate what comes next if you try that again” </p><p>You drop to your knees slowly. He strokes the side of your jaw, slowly starting to bruise, passing his thumb over your split lip, parting them slightly and pressing his thumb down on your tongue. The candles reflecting light that shimmered on his body, making him look like a god.<br/>
“Take it, you’ve done it before”, he demands, implying things that don’t have to be said to be understood.<br/>
You open your mouth, letting him force his dick inside, holding the back of your head, pushing it further down your throat. You try not to gag, whining slightly as he fucks your throat, doing what he pleases for long enough that you forget to breathe through your nose for an instant, making your eyes water.<br/>
He pulls out suddenly, patting your head.</p><p>“Go on the bed”<br/>
“I – I don’t think it’s a good idea”, you whisper, barely audible.<br/>
He reaches for your hair again, grasping a good handful, using it to drag you to the bed forcefully, practically throwing you on it.<br/>
“Bend over, put your hands on the headboard”</p><p>Still shivering from the cold water and minimal clothing, you oblige, the position making you embarrassed, rendering it impossible to see him unless you turned your head around. You feel his hand grazing the side of your thigh lifting the nightgown up, leaving it scrunched around your waist. He spread your legs apart with his knee, placing himself between them, anchoring his hands on your hips, immobilizing them, angling them up.</p><p> He enters you with no warning. You gasp, squeezing the headboard tighter as the motion sends you rocking back and forth. You could hear him grown in a low voice behind you, hands painfully squeezing into your sides. </p><p>Even though the situation felt wrong, you had to admit that he knew exactly what he was doing, he gets what he wants, every damn time. It felt so good you had forgotten the reason for your visit and forgone his actions entirely, all that rage he took out on you.<br/>
He just needed someone. You tried so hard to be that someone.<br/>
You were unsure if that was the surge of his powers screaming inside your head to think the things you thought, or your own mind voicing its repressed truth. </p><p>You chose me. He had spoken once before, in the first few days, after you had met. You still weren’t sure if it had been a question or just a statement. What you had learned about him, living with him for a few days, was that he only wanted to be safe and accepted. He hadn’t asked for love. Because he truly believed no one would ever love him if he didn’t force them to.</p><p>He snaps you back into reality by spinning you around on the bed, taking a moment to look at your face, always wondering if he had crossed a line, lifting your hips up, more gently this time.<br/>
You hadn’t felt the burning sensation taking control of your hand, his curse. For an instant you feared he would let you suffer, watching as you tried moving your fingers, but his hand reached yours, intertwining both your fingers, and the pain eased quickly. </p><p>Not alone. You thought. Either for you or for him.<br/>
Your misdemeanor already forgotten.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comment your heart out</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The moon and his star</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>took a break to digest rule of wolves</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You sat at his desk, rereading the letters sent from the prince, wondering what he could’ve wanted from you and what he had already asked of him. The darkling was still sleeping, he needed the rest, he looked positively more exhausted each time he came back from a fight. Shadows seeping away from his body like fog, giving the room an allusion of a forest plunged into darkness.<br/>
You let him sleep, he hadn’t pushed you away after yesterday but something was definitely on his mind. Something or someone. </p><p>Rising from your chair, leaving the letter on the desk, you exited the room as quietly as possible. This early in the morning, there was almost no one around, the halls were empty and the palace quiet. You liked to venture around when no one was looking, so many rooms to explore and so many secrets to discover.<br/>
You picked a room you never went in before, a sort of small armory, with walls covered in weapons who seemed to have been left unused for quite a while. You walked among them, tracing the edge of the blades with your finger.<br/>
One of them stood out. It was the knife you had taken out of the chest the first day you had met him when he had brought you to his tent. You decided to keep it.</p><p>🌑🌓🌕     The second day</p><p>Undoing the camp and riding back to the city had been a lot less complicated than you had anticipated. You had stuck to his side, trying to help where you could and being what they all expected of you. Meeting the Darkling yesterday had produced nothing but questions in your mind, you understood the extent of the importance coming with taking a part of his powers. Gaining a deeper connection with him, for you, and being the only one who could appease you, for him</p><p>Of course, this new situation was a lot easier to accept when everyone treated you with respect, although fake for some, and even a little fear. Obtaining his trust had become your main priority. Coming a close second to attracting his attention every chance you got. </p><p>When you had set up camp for the second day of the travel back to the capital, you had dared to be a little more provocative. Riding with him on his horse, behind him this time, you had feigned being scared of the speed, a flimsy excuse to wrap your arms tighter around his body. Even having the audacity to put on his kefta, that he had left in his tent similarly to the day prior, leaving to oversee the camp before nightfall, over the light dress someone had given you. </p><p>Prior to meeting him, you had never come so close to a grisha uniform, having it on your body felt irresistibly dangerous. The fabric was soft and heavy, everything was detailed so precisely, from the sun eclipsed buttons to the inside lining. You marveled at the craftsmanship of the coat and the feeling of being wrapped in a thick black blanket of the finest quality that was a few sizes too big.<br/>
Twirling around in place, you nearly jumped back when your heart skipped a beat, meeting his eyes as he watched you from the entrance of the tent, leaning on a mast. His arms were crossed in front of his chest but the slight smile on his face and curious expression told you that he wasn’t angry, instead, he seemed rather amused. </p><p>“Sorry?”, you murmured frozen in place.<br/>
“What a great thief you are”, he said sarcastically closing the distance between you, “you steal my powers and now my clothes?”<br/>
“I’m not stealing anything, I’m borrowing”</p><p>You thought he was going to ask for it back, but he didn’t. Instead, he unfolded some heavily annotated maps, circling around you to place them on the small table, adding more annotations and lines. He seemed to be tracking something.<br/>
You kept the coat on, flopping down on the makeshift bed without care, staring at the lanterns hanging from the draped ceiling. You weren’t sure yet what you were supposed to do while he worked, you hadn’t received any further instructions from him apart from being told to behave. Behaving was getting boring. </p><p>“So, what are you gonna do about the power thing”, you say starring had your raised hand, probably disturbing him from his work.<br/>
It takes him a few seconds to acknowledge your question, folding the map carefully and securing it back into a locked wooden coffer. “The Morozova texts imply that you have to trust me enough to let me take it back from you”. You had no idea what the Morozova texts were but at this point you weren’t bothered enough to ask.<br/>
“Okay then,”, you reply rolling to your side to face him “are you gonna keep hugging me to sleep until I trust you? Is that your plan?”<br/>
“Trust goes both ways”, he leaned back in his chair observing you sprawled in his bed, in his coat. “You are not a prisoner here, I won’t force you to stay, but you know the consequences if you leave”.<br/>
“That sounds a bit like forcing”<br/>
“Then I’m asking you to stay”, he pauses for an instant, “for me”. </p><p>The offer is enticing. It’s guaranteed security, a free escort, unlimited benefits, and being able to flirt with a gorgeous man. He seemed so alone, always distanced from the others, so desperate for the company of someone who could accept him as him. You weren’t the spitting image of a good person either, you were in no position to judge his actions, therefore you didn’t. At that moment, it had crossed your mind that the curse inside you could be eating at your mind as much as it was breaking your body, if he was trying to seduce you via mind control it was working. </p><p>“Very well, but I want the knife back, and no more tying me up”, he looked at you as if what you proposed was the worst idea ever. “Trust, right?”, you added.<br/>
He breathed in slowly, thinking about it for a quick moment before opening up a chest and retrieving the dagger you had – kind of not really – tried to steal yesterday. He pointed the hilt in your direction without extending his arm.<br/>
You stood up from your sprawled position even though you would’ve much preferred to stay lying down on the plushy fur covers, and walked the few steps left to him. Standing in front of him, barely taller than him even sitting down, you reached for the dagger but he playfully pulls it away in the opposite direction. You step closer, trying to reach for it again, he expertly throws it in his other hand, watching you with enjoyment as you try to take it from him yet again. </p><p>“It looks good on you”<br/>
“Annoyance?”, you reply, definitively annoyed, now almost standing above him, your legs around his thigh. So close that if he stood up, his body would be entirely pressed against yours.<br/>
“I meant the kefta. Annoyance looks good on you too, although I’d prefer another expression”. He took hold of your waist, pressing the small of your back towards him, making you fall forward on top of him. You press your knee between his legs to stabilize yourself, holding onto the back of the chair, inches from his face. He doesn’t react, waiting for your next move.</p><p>You lean in and kiss him, fully pressing yourself on him, passing your hand through his black silky hair. You used the moment of distraction to hold his hand, swiftly taking the dagger from him before pulling away.<br/>
“What a sneaky thief you are. If you plan on stabbing me, I would like to know in advance”.<br/>
“I’ll tell you when I make up my mind”, you backed away. Once standing again, you turned the dagger in your hand, the blade catching your reflection. “What now?”.</p><p>He stood up as well, pulling you back closely by the sides of the open coat.<br/>
“Trust. Right?”, he said as he bent down to kiss you again, pulling you by the lapels of the kefta towards the bed.<br/>
You flipped him, pushing him on the bed before he had the chance to do it to you. You truly didn’t think you had the strength to actually push him around, meaning he was letting you do what you wanted. Such trust already. </p><p>You sat on top of him, straddling him with your legs, pushing him down completely with a hand on his chest. The kefta sprawled around behind you like a cape. He slid his hands up your thighs slowly and tentatively reaching your hips, lifting your dress up with it, squeezing slightly, positioning you lower against him.<br/>
You flipped the dagger in your hand, dragging it down his neck and down his black shirt as he had done to you the previous day, his eyes never leaving yours.</p><p>You started tearing at the buttons of his shirt, the knife grazing each one, tearing them from their place, sending them scattering about on the tent’s floor, ruining a perfectly good shirt. A smile tugged on his lips, seeing you admire his body, increasing his hold on your hips, inciting you to keep grinding on him, the pressure increasing between your legs.<br/>
You felt his hands on your side going under the band of your underwear, his fingers hooking around it as if asking for permission. You definitely weren’t going to get up, but you needed them off. Now. </p><p>“Rip them off”, you ordered, trying to sound as demanding as possible.<br/>
“You don’t know what you’re asking dear”<br/>
As an answer, you threw the knife somewhere at the edge of the bed, making a mental note to take it back later, and shrugged the kefta off your shoulders, throwing it too, followed by the dress you yanked off above your head.<br/>
“I’m going to fucking ruin you”, he said as he tore off your remaining underwear, you’d probably have to borrow some tomorrow, although the idea of horseback riding with him and no underwear on sounded appealing. </p><p>He pulled you down by the neck, trapping your mouth with his as you undid the lacing of his pants as fast as your fingers could handle. Muscle memory.<br/>
He groaned as you took his dick out, running your hand on the shaft. A hand on his chest for support, you lifted yourself up and lowered yourself onto him slowly, gasping all the way down until his full length was inside you. </p><p>You lifted your hips again, repeating the motion and throwing your head back, riding him as his hands traveled on your body, slowly becoming a moaning mess.<br/>
“Your thighs are shaking, having a bit of trouble?”, the Darkling asked in a low sensual voice.<br/>
You didn’t answer, too focused on trying not to wake up the entire war camp, probably failing miserably.<br/>
He sat up, curling his arms around you before flipping you around. He’d always end up being the one in control, you thought as he kissed your neck, moving down your chest.<br/>
You felt him lift your legs, holding them by the ankle and placing them on his shoulder, going even deeper than before, overwhelming you with pleasure. </p><p>You crossed your arms around your face, turning your head away in embarrassment as you felt release coming, feeling his hungry eyes on you at all times.<br/>
“Look at me”, he said prying your hands away, intertwining his fingers in yours. Slowly you met his gaze. “I want to see you cum”.</p><p>🌑🌓🌕  Present day</p><p>You snapped back to reality with the sound of the armory doors swinging open, slamming against the wall. The darkling stood at the entrance panting slightly, even if he was impeccably dressed, you could tell he had just woken up and gone down in a hurry. </p><p>“What’s happening”, you ask, feeling the flush in your face from the memory.<br/>
He looked you up and down, eyes settling on the dagger you kept, a new addition to your outfit. </p><p>His face shifted from worry to curiosity. “I thought you left”.<br/>
“I have no shelter left but you”.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Privateer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Let’s pretend that Nikolai likes the Darkling a little bit more.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Spoiler warning for ruin &amp; rising</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the dinner invitation date approached, you had received another missive inquiring if you would prefer to have a private banquet on a boat or at the palace. The darkling had replied, by letter as well, without asking for your opinion. The beautiful letter came with a package equally ornated. It contained a dress similar to the styles the Darkling had given you, but instead of the usual black, this one was a vibrant red. </p><p>You held onto the gorgeous silk, putting it against your body to judge what it would look like, facing the mirrors. Full skirts, lacing down the back, small off-the-shoulder straps, easy to take off.<br/>
Since it had no sleeve, it wouldn’t cover your hand, now fully black, dark veins snaking up past your wrist up to the elbow. You weren’t one for gloves, especially at a formal dinner, this wasn’t Ketterdam after all. </p><p>The Darkling was observing you, throwing subtle glances your way before continuing his paperwork, which had accumulated into a big pile. You purposefully hadn’t let him put his attention towards anything else but you in the last few days, being as provocative as ever. You felt every hour ticking by. Borrowed time. </p><p>“Are you going to wear that?”, he asked, eyes fixed on his papers.<br/>
“You don’t like it? It came with the invitation I just assumed”.<br/>
“I’d prefer you wear black; I’ll ask for a new dress made by tomorrow”.<br/>
You shrugged “fine”.<br/>
You heard him put his pen down loudly, sighing as he leaned back in the chair.<br/>
“Try it on anyways, let’s see if the Lantsov boy has good taste”</p><p>You obliged, slipping off the robe and letting drop to the floor at your feet. His eyes passing over your body as you put the gown on. He stood up, stepping behind you to lace up the back tightly, hands lingering on your waist. The pulling of the corset bringing you closer to him. </p><p>He pressed a kiss on the back of your neck, wrapping his arms tight around you.<br/>
“You can’t see if it looks good from this close”, you said, your smile resonated in your voice. </p><p>He pulled back from you, pushing you by your waist away towards the wall. Stepping back slightly, he passed a hand on his cheek, brows furrowing, faking to think.<br/>
“How does it look?”, you asked.<br/>
“It’s pretty”<br/>
“You don’t like it, don’t lie.”<br/>
“I don’t like that it’s from him.”, he said stepping closer.<br/>
“What should we do about that then?”</p><p>He knew what you were suggesting. It didn’t need to be said, and yet, he said it anyway.<br/>
“I’m going to fuck you in this dress, so hard that you won’t be able to wear it without remembering the way you screamed for me.”</p><p>🌑🌓🌕</p><p>You hadn’t worn the dress indeed.<br/>
Instead, he had gifted you a new black and gold one, matching the colors of his kefta. He had given you a pile of jewelry to pick from, insisting you have it all, glittery crowns, heavy bracelets, big shiny rings. In the end, you had picked a diamond necklace with a huge stone. </p><p>The city was crowded with the black heretic’s cult, waiting for their starless saint. The palace was bigger than you expected, never having seen it up close.<br/>
On the way here in a carriage, he had joked about requesting that you poison the prince. Maybe it hadn’t been a joke. Either way, you had refused, wanting to meet the man who attracted such disdain and interest from the Darkling. </p><p>Like everything royal, the dinner had been grand and beyond expectations, accompanied by a small ball of course. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, following the Darkling as he made his way through the emissaries and ambassadors.<br/>
Seated at a big long table, you tried to concentrate on the conversation a politician in front of you was trying to make. Something about a possible war with Fjerda and attacks on suli human-trade ships. You couldn’t care less. </p><p>You had noticed the prince staring from across the room, throwing subtle glances between sentences. He was indeed as attractive as they said, golden curls and a charming smile, wearing red. The Darkling didn’t bother looking his way, he seemed so out of place away from his grisha army and gloomy dark castle. </p><p>Previously, you had thought that balls were supposed to be fun. They weren’t.<br/>
It was all side glances, judging looks, old people, and bad alcohol. You had danced with the Darkling to pass the time; people hadn’t dared to say a word.<br/>
Finally, after an hour that seemed to stretch, the music becoming a blend in the background, one of the prince’s advisors came to notify you that his highness was waiting for tea in a private room on the upper floor. The Darkling waved him off, taking your hand in his, dragging you out the ballroom. </p><p>The private room, as previously referred to, was actually a huge suite with a bedroom, a lounging area, and shut doors that probably lead an office. </p><p>Nikolai was lounging on an armchair, holding a small porcelain mug in his hand, he had discarded his red princeling coat, which was now resting on the sidearm of the chair. He sat as if he owned the place, he did, but you were so used to the Darkling having absolute control over every single little thing. </p><p>He took one good look at you from up close as you entered the room behind the Darkling.<br/>
“Did you not like the dress?”, his voice was playful and melodious.<br/>
“It didn’t fit properly”, a lie. </p><p>The armchair he was sitting on was farther apart from the rest of the sofas, facing another similar chair, a small table covered in sweets in between them. You weren’t sure where you were supposed to sit, it must’ve been a test of loyalty. One you will pass with flying colors, not hesitating a second as you sat on the Darkling’s laps. He wrapped an arm around your waist, Nikolai watching everything with curiosity. </p><p>“Long time no see, General”, said the prince, taking his gloves off, revealing a hand similar to yours. Also cursed. “Look! We’re twins. Did he try to push you off a boat too?” He added waving his fingers at you. His curse was different, the Darkling had told you, it hadn’t been an accident, the prince didn’t feel pain like you did, he felt control slipping out of his hands as he turned into something horrible.</p><p>“Stop the nonsense, Nikolai, what do you want.”<br/>
“I desired to know what all the fuss was about. I didn’t believe the news when I heard you brought another girl back with you.”</p><p>Another girl. It was meant to hurt but it didn’t. </p><p>“Anyways,” the prince continued, “I wanted to see if you’d like to share.”<br/>
“No, I don’t.”, the Darkling replied.<br/>
“Always the protector. I’m asking that you reconsider, I’m sure you missed me.”<br/>
“Missing you would be impossible.”<br/>
“Improbable.” He sipped on his tea, offering you a smile. His golden hair shining in the dimming lights.<br/>
“Whatever your offering, your majesty, seems like a bad idea.” The Darkling said those words as if they were poison.<br/>
“Anything worth doing starts with a bad idea.”</p><p>You felt his hand on your waist squeeze harder in the slightest. Not deeming the prince’s reply worth answering. Their little exchange moving too fast for you to comprehend what was being talked about.</p><p>“What?” the prince continued, winking at you, “scared I’ll make her forget you with one night.”<br/>
“I don’t think so highly of your skills.”<br/>
“I forgot how fun you were. How about we ask your dear little shadow princess what she thinks.”</p><p>The wheels in your head were turning a little too slowly for your preference. The sight of them together was quite something to uphold. Equals from different worlds, so inexplicably similar, yet different in every way.  </p><p>“I’m sorry, what was that?”, hearing your nickname you looked back at the Darkling for any indication of how you should act. He had not prepared you for this, simply reminding you to behave beforehand as always. You both knew what behaving meant. It wasn’t worth much.<br/>
He had a puzzled expression as if considering it. Whatever it was. He fixed his gaze on Nikolai who grinned back, understanding exactly what was going on in his head, like a bond they shared. Definitively affected by his challenging tone. </p><p>“Come here dear, I’ll show you true Ravkan hospitality.” You felt the Darkling’s grip loosen in acceptance as the prince formulated his request, the pieces of the puzzle finally forming a clearer picture.<br/>
Oh! So, this is how this tea party is going to go. What a two for one. Or should you say two on one. </p><p>The prince traded his teacup for a glass filled with deep burgundy wine, gracefully taking a sip, extending his free hand towards you to take it. You did so hesitantly, feeling him yank you towards him, almost tripping on the coffee table legs as you land on the prince’s armchair. </p><p>He took another sip of his wine, pulling you closer into a kiss, transferring the liquid into your mouth. You felt yourself pull back out of surprise, a bit of wine trickling down your chin and onto your chest. You thought the Darkling would oppose to such open forwardness, but he didn’t, instead he was watching intently. Since you didn’t object, he didn’t either, rather enjoying himself. </p><p>“Stop looking at him, look at me, you’re gonna miss out on my beauty,” said the prince. You did, almost immediately adverting your eyes seeing the golden boy smile sweetly, a scheming gleaming look on his face. “Fine, fine, do as you like. Here, I’ll help you.”<br/>
He pulled you on his legs, flipping you effortlessly so that you were straddling him backward, facing the Darkling. He almost laughed at your shocked expression, his chin resting on his ringed hand. </p><p>“Go on Nikolai. Show me what you can do.”<br/>
___________</p><p>Time passed in a blur. You had moved to the bed, discarding your dress somewhere along the way. Your thoughts were far, far away, even having trouble concentrating on what was happening in the present moment. Although your brain was currently empty, you could feel absolutely everything. You’d lost track of how it came to this, trapped between two men, rocking back and forth on your hands and knees, the massive bed in the guest room creaking with the movement. </p><p>You wished it would never stop. The tender caress down your back, the harsh grip of your hips, the pulling of your hair, it had all become a habit. Now all of it felt new, thanks to the demon prince hitting deep from behind, hands firm on your sides as he groaned with pleasure, his sharp black claws digging into your skin. </p><p>A faint blush tainted your tear-stained cheeks, fully aware of the sight the Darkling was upholding, holding the back of your head still, rolling his hips forward, going further down your throat.</p><p>Your arms and legs were shaking from the strain and the constant stimulation. It had gone from the teasing and fingering in the tea room, to riding the Darkling’s face endlessly kissing the prince, to undressing them back pressed against one, hands roaming the other, followed by going down on the prince before he went down on you, with much leg spreading, side fucking, and now this. At some point you had licked cum off of someone’s stomach, you weren’t entirely certain if it had actually happened or if it was part of a dream. </p><p>Nikolai slowed his thrusting, retreating slowly to the tip before going back in painfully slowly, enjoying himself.<br/>
It was unclear if this was still a competition, if the prince would stay true to his statement about making you forget. But if someone didn’t stop soon, you were positive you’d faint.<br/>
After being tossed and turned and exchanged many times, the two men had calmed down, becoming gentler. </p><p>“I have to return; my commander will worry.” Nikolai had retrieved his clothes, now half put on, not bothering to tie them properly. “You are welcomed to join the rest of the festivities”, he glanced back at you, curled on your side to protect yourself from the cooling air, the bed covers laying somewhere tangled on the floor. “Or you can stay the night, room is yours.”<br/>
“I don’t think I can walk”, you mumbled trying to fight the fatigue away, eyes half-closed, feeling sticky. The Darkling threw his kefta to cover your body, pulling you closer to him as he sat back down, resting his back on the bed frame. You laid your head on his lap as he stroke your hair mindlessly.<br/>
“We’ll leave at dawn,” he said.</p><p>Nikolai motioned towards the door, holding his red coat in his hand. “If you ever find a way to get rid of the curse you tell me, yeah?”<br/>
The Darkling snickered, “give commander Zoya my best regards.”<br/>
It was Nikolai’s turn to snicker. You heard the door close shut; the silence was soothing.</p><p>“Look at the city lights.”<br/>
You forced yourself to open your eyes, gazing out the window at the night sky. The palace was high enough that you could see the entire capital, each home burning like a small troche in the darkness. It looked like stars.<br/>
“I don’t like the city.” He said.<br/>
“How come?”<br/>
“Too much noise.”</p><p>🌑🌓🌕</p><p>The darkling had started speaking to himself. Not exactly to himself, but since you couldn’t see the person he was addressing, you classified it as hallucinating. It was terrifying. Seeing such a clear strong mind getting pulled into shambles. He did things he normally wouldn’t do, capturing children, hurting grishas, making rushed decisions, breaking himself down doing so.</p><p>Don’t leave me alone</p><p>He had whispered in the darkness, sitting alone, bleeding and in pain, looking at someone who wasn’t there. You knew who it was, it couldn’t be more obvious. It has always been about her in the end. Alina Starkov, firstly saved, now the savior.<br/>
How absurd. She wasn’t the one doing the saving. He was the one who rescued, who brought her into the light. How selfish. The people turned their heads to whoever shone the brightest, screamed the loudest, won the battles they never partook in. Following like sheep. How ignorant. The boy-king had turned a blind eye. How arrogant. </p><p>Speak my name once more</p><p>It hurt, even more, knowing that she knew his name, that she deserved to share his past and you didn’t. He wanted to learn how to love. How to love without taking, without force, he wanted to change the world. She had taken that from him. She’d done to him exactly what she despised him for. He had given up.  </p><p>He had left to fight. Alone. Accompanied only by the shadows trailing him. </p><p>Before leaving, meeting up with the people’s pure saint, he had brought you to a cottage, away from the city, with big flower fields. It was a good attempt at a nice gesture, the warmth of it all, lasting just enough time.<br/>
Although truly, he had cursed you with loneliness as much as with pain. His impending death irrevocably tied with your own.  </p><p>There was nothing you could do. Ultimately helpless surrounded my life and color, surrounded by growth. You couldn’t mourn him properly; you didn’t know who to mourn for. The general? The monster? The saint? The lover?<br/>
You had always been a distraction to him, a hobby, a test, to prove to himself that he wasn’t what they told him he was. But what was he to you?<br/>
More, so much more. </p><p>You had never told him. You would never get the chance. </p><p>When it came, you felt it all the way to your heart. Your arm aching with angry power that wasn’t yours, that wasn’t of this world anymore. The burn did not come from it, rather, it came from the loss. It felt awful. </p><p>You pressed a hand to your mouth, silencing the cries. There were so many questions, and even more possibilities.<br/>
How had he died? Was he in pain? Had she done it? Did he think of you, even for a moment?</p><p>The pain became too much of a torment to endure, you walked outside deeper in the field, tears descending slowly. Everything was numb.<br/>
There would be no thumb to desecrate, only the remains of this place he had given to you, no one, left for someone to find someday. Who would mourn you once you were gone? Worst, who would mourn him? </p><p>The world spined as your head connected with the ground, the strength from your body gone.<br/>
You could swear the sky had gone somber.<br/>
It was entirely starless.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Last chapter! What a ride<br/>Apologies for the Alina slander, love you boo &lt;3<br/>Now we wait for the show.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More to come, requests appreciated.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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